DEDICATION: To those of you who actually asked about this story...there
were a couple of you - you know who you are;-) Thank you!

~~ Part 2 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, where was I? Oh yeah...being led into the librarian's
living room by a Holy Water gun-packing witch.

Being the polite bloke that I am, I behaved myself when she shoved
me into the chair. More of a nudge than a shove, really, but I had
to give her credit for touching me at all. Chip or no chip, I'm the
big bad. Didn't give her a spot of trouble either when she set about
tying me to the seat with an enormous length of rope, my hands behind the
chair. Didn't have a choice really. She had the dripping gun
pointed at me the whole time, didn't she? Even if I did manage to
get away from her, I couldn't run very fast. Sneaky little cow had
my hands cuffed and my feet chained the whole time she was tying me up.
The best I could've managed was a waddle.

Crikey...a waddling vampire...I've had enough humiliation for one
bloody unlife time, thank you very much.

I kept reminding myself that all I had to do was bide my time, and
I'd be free without having to be damaged. Somehow. Didn't quite
have a plan yet, I must admit. I had a half a plan at best.
Actually, several half plans...and sooner or later, I knew they'd add up
to a whole. Just had to be patient and behave myself 'til the right
opportunity came along.

Even though I desperately wanted to ask her why she thought the librarian
kept so much rope handy, I didn't. I doubted she'd get the innuendo.
Besides, as it was, I was trying not to laugh in her face as she treated
me like a bloody Maypole. Instead of just standing in one spot and
reaching around me with the rope, she was slowly circling the chair, wrapping
the rope around me as she went. I can only assume she didn't want
to touch me. I wondered what scared her more--the fact that I was
a vampire or that I was male? Either way, I figured I won. Plus it was
just one more little weakness that I planned on using to gain my freedom.

Eventually, she finished securing the rope at the back of the chair
before removing my handcuffs. But then there was a pause. I
glanced over my shoulder and saw her staring at the ropes, her forehead
all wrinkled up. Not an attractive look for her, might I add.
I bet she was replaying an episode of 'Cops' in her head, trying to figure
out if she'd done it right. Apparently, she decided more was better
and added a more loops of rope around my wrists and a few more knots.

When the chit finally seemed satisfied that I wouldn't be going anywhere
without taking the whole bloody piece of furniture with me, she walked
over to the desk in front of me that was a safe distance away. She
dropped the cuffs, keys and water gun on top, took a seat, and then stuck
her little nose in a book.

So there I was, finally free of the tub, only to be restrained to
a chair in Sunnydale's most boring flat. Apparently, the only tele
this watcher bloke had was the one he let me watch in the loo. Looking
around, I could see something vaguely resembling a stereo. Looked
more like something that little 'phone home' fellow would've come up with
after a sugar over-load. Even if the Watcher did have a few albums
that were worth a spin, I doubted that the witch would let me play.

Besides, I was on a mission, not playing 'Top of the Pops'.
And my plans were finally starting to take shape. It was when she'd
added the extra rope about my wrists that I first realized I might stand
a shot of actually getting loose. With all those knots at my fingertips,
all I needed was a distraction.

"Why are they being so hard on you?" I asked the little witch.
Her lips twitched but she didn't even bother to look at me. "You'd
think it was your first mistake," I added.

Willow peeked at me over the top of a much-too-thick textbook.
"Oh, it's not my first mistake," she said. "I mean, I've made a couple
of others...doozies, really, but this is the first one that ended...with...well
ramifications of biblical proportions."

I snorted a bit at the girl's over-sized sense of guilt. I
mean, come on...it's not as if The Slayer'd never kissed a vamp before.
And her track record with men hardly put her on the list to be the next
Virgin Mary, now did it? Somehow I managed not to laugh outright.
That hardly would have helped the situation. Besides, I kinda liked
that about her...guilt's something I can work with.

"Biblical proportions, eh?" I repeated. "How do you come to
that conclusion, little girl?"

Willow finally set the book down. Her tongue flicked out quickly
to wet her lips before she managed to look me in the eye.

"You know...cats and dogs, lying together," she twittered.
"William the Bloody being talked into wearing a pink cummerbund at his
wedding to the Slayer...need I go on? You were there, remember?"

"Oh piffle," I replied. It isn't a very manly word, piffle,
but it's nonthreatening, which was the whole theme at the time. "Come
on! I was the one most hurt, and you don't see me asking you to build
me a mahogany, satin-lined coffin or be my personal blood donor."

"I thought vampires don't sleep in coffins," she said a little smugly.

Stubborn little thing.

"I was making a bloody point, wasn't I? I seem to be the only
one not holding this against you. Seems a bit odd to me, that's all.
But if that's how you lot handle these sorts of things, then why should
I care?" I paused just long enough to make what came next look like
an afterthought. "So, what did you make slutty do the last time she
made a mistake? The whole Angelus cock-up alone should've been worth
a bundle. Tell me, did you make her paint your house? Wash
everyone's knickers for a year? Clean the loo with her toothbrush?
Oh, I'd give away a couple pints of AB-negative to watch that!"

The little girl's face collapsed, her eyes dulling over and all that
lovely blood draining from her face. She'd figured it out, finally...how
bloody unfair life really could be. Took her long enough. Even
I could see that they hadn't done right by the witch, not that I care.

Unfortunately, just when I thought I could smell the salt of her
tears, she sat up a little straighter, trying to pull herself together.
I must say, I was a little disappointed, actually. I was shooting
for tears, but a quivering lower lip is the next best thing, I suppose.

"Not exactly, Spike," she said in a sigh. "After all, Buffy's
under a lot of pressure. She does the best she can. And that
whole Angel-Angelus thing was very hard on her..." Her voice trailed
off, ending in another sigh.

I nodded in my most 'understanding yet I think you've been bloody
had' sort of way, which gained a hint of a smile from the girl.

"Oh...Of course things are different for *her*, seeing as she's the
Slayer and all," I replied, reeling her in a little more. "But what
about your Watcher and that Xander-bloke? Bet they've had their fair
share of amends to make. Tell me about those, then."

Her eyes fell to her lap and she shrugged half-heartedly. That
was her answer. Not the babbling excuses that the little chit was
famous for but a simple shrug.

"Guess friendship isn't what it used to be back in the good old days,"
I told her in my best bored tone. I even attempted to return her
shrug as a sort of 'comrade in arms' display, but with my arms tied behind
me, it wasn't very impressive, as far as shrugs go.

That was the final comment that broke the witch's back, so to speak.
I watched with demonic satisfaction as her forehead wrinkled and the gears
began to spin inside her head. No tears though, but it was early
days yet.

Willow fiddled with her pencil, tapping away on the desk top so hard
that I thought I saw bits of saw dust flying about, her eyes looking anywhere
but at me. But I didn't have time to watch her whittle the desk away
to nothing but kindling before I escaped...I had plans. Well, like
I said before, a couple of partial plans, really.

"Since I don't have anything better to do, tell me," I said to the
witch.

The redhead finally looked at me, her green eyes wide as if she'd
forgotten I was there.

"Tell you?"

I stretched my legs, trying to get comfortable and look casual at
the same time. Not an easy look to achieve when you're shackled.

"Tell me about these other magnificent cock-ups of yours."

She squirmed a bit in her seat. I could tell she was torn between
wanting to talk to someone and wishing it were anyone other than me.
Apparently, I don't appear as the 'Dear Abby' sort.

"I-I don't think so, Spike," Willow said, a suspicious light beginning
to flare in the depths of her green eyes.

Damn.

"Why the hell not?" I demanded, still managing to keep my desperation
out of my voice. "It's old news around here, right? It's not
like I'm asking you to tell me your deepest, darkest fantasy, Red.
I'm just trying to pass the time. And since it seems I'm going to
be stuck with the lot of you, much to my own shame, I might as well try
and understand how you do-gooders do business, right?"

"Well...yeah...but--"

"But nothing. I'm bored out of my skull, I'm curious as to
what someone as sickeningly nice as you could have possibly done to upset
the natural shiny-happy order of things in Sunnydale, and besides...we
both know you need to study about as much as I need a good suntan."

That one hit its mark. I could see her swishing my words around
in her brain a bit, trying to decide if I'd really paid her a compliment
or not. I had. It's obvious even to a thick bloke like me that
she's got more brains that common sense. Considering that most of
the women I've had the misfortune to associate with lately had neither,
it was almost refreshing.

"Come on, Red. I've been stuck in that bloody tub for days,
forced to watch some American soap opera drivel that makes Coronation Street
and the bloody EastEnders look like Masterpiece Theater. I just want
to talk, alright? Where's the harm in that? And while I've
had better conversations with a Chinza demon, you'll have to do, won't
you?"

She blinked at me.

The witch didn't get it.

"Er, you see, pet, Chinza demons don't actually have mouths."

"I know," she replied calmly. She then retrieved her book and
began to read again.

Didn't she realize she'd been insulted? Granted, it wasn't
the harshest of insults I'd ever dealt out, but I wasn't looking for tears
anymore. I wanted her to open up, not turn on the waterworks.

"They use telepathy," she said in whisper-soft voice that was almost
hidden under the sound of turning pages.

"What?"

She set the book down and looked at me.

"Chinza demons use telepathy to communicate. They don't need
mouths."

"Oh."

"Now, the Jiord demon, for example, doesn't have a mouth or telepathy
or any other way of communicating. So, next time you want to imply
that someone is boring, you may want to consider using the Jiord demon
instead. Okay?"

A small smile escaped me before I could stop it. "I'll make
a note of that, Red. Thanks for straightening me out."

I was speechless for a moment. I'd insulted her, and all she
could do was correct my slur and make it even more stinging. All
without batting an eye. Guess the poor thing had already grown numb
to the barbs of the people around her. I remained silent, watching
her, waiting for a new approach to the situation to come to me. Unfortunately,
she looked up and caught me staring at her. I have no idea what expression
I had plastered on my face at the time, but it must have been the right
one because she actually closed the book this time. Then with a sigh,
she got to her tiny little feet.

"I-I met a demon once, over the internet," she said in a quiet, almost
hopeful voice. "Not that I knew he was a demon because I wouldn't
be caught dead dating a demon, but..."

Willow walked as she talked, her hands flitting about restlessly.
She reminded me of a vamp fledgling on his initial hunt--the ones that
usually died before they saw their first sunset. But she was talking,
and that's all I really gave a damn about...she could flap her arms until
she took flight for all I cared, as long as she kept talking.

"...I thought it was so exciting, you know?" she continued, her voice
growing richer with each word. "To have this secret...he-he would
have been my first boyfriend. Well, *if* he'd actually been a boy...or
even alive...."

Unfortunately, she stopped there. Just when it was getting
good, too. I actually wanted to hear a little bit more about this
demon lover of hers. And the blood was rushing to her face in the
most delightful yet torturous way that I was becoming distracted.

Damn, how I miss human blood. The more innocent the better,
and looking at her, I knew that virginity wasn't the only measure of innocence.

Willow paced a bit, chewing on her fingernail as she circled about
in front of me.

"Let's see...I was captured by an invisible girl once and Angel had
to save me, Buffy had to save me from a vampire practically her first night
in Sunnydale."Oh," she continued," then there was that whole deal with Xander
and Oz...that was the same night you so politely asked me to do that love
spell for you."

There she went...twisting that half-imbedded stake again.

"Yeah, I always wondered about that, Red. You were with the
dog then, right? Yet there you were, getting ready to do some love
spell with Boy-Wonderless. How'd that all come about?"

A shadow darkened her face, and I had caused it. I hadn't lost
my touch. Who says you need fangs to hurt someone? Unfortunately,
the little witch didn't answer my question. She plopped herself back
down at the desk and began shuffling through some papers. I'd pushed
her too far, too fast.

"I--I really better get back to studying," she said, her eyes on
the papers in front of her. "After all, this research paper on Pavlovian
conditioning isn't going to write itself, no matter how many bells I ring."

"Classical musician?" It was supposed to be a joke. Not a very
good one apparently. Either that, or she thought I was a complete
dolt.

She glanced over the top of a thick text. "Um, not exactly,
he--"

"He's the slobbering dog bloke, right? Ring a bell, feed some
bloody mutt his doggie tea and then after a while, all you have to do is
ring the bell to start him drooling. Correct?"

Willow raised a surprised eyebrow. "Yeah, that's the one.
How do you know about Pavlov? You don't really strike me as the studious
type."

I attempted another shrug, trying to appear humble. "When you're
dating the insane, it's nice to read up on the subject a bit. Sort
of like an owner's manual, I suppose. Not that it did me any bloody
good, mind you..." The damn harpy.

The redhead opened her mouth like she was going to say something,
but she must have thought better of it. Knowing her, the chit was
probably going to say something sweet and supportive. She was looking
at me again with the bloody empathy just dripping off of her, and that's
when it hit me. Maybe if I shared my pain, she'd share hers.

I let my face fall a bit. Not too much though, I wanted to
look understanding and sympathetic, not pathetic.

"It still hurts sometimes, you know? I thought we'd be together
for eternity, but one night she just said it was over...that I wasn't demon
enough for the likes of her. It felt like someone had ripped my guts
out." Then I sniffed, just a bit. I'm not a good enough actor
to produce any tears, but I figured that just a small display of sappiness
would go a long way with the witch. "I even admitted to Dru that
I'd made a mistake by helping the Slayer save the bloody world, even if
I did do it all for her. But she'd have none of it." I forced
a sigh, letting my eyes fall to my feet as if embarrassed by my own weakness.
"Never mind...you wouldn't understand."

That did it. Suddenly the red-headed witch was spilling her
guts, figuratively speaking.

She paced about in front of me as she went on and bloody on about
what had happened the night I'd tried to get her to do that damned love
spell. Apparently, she and chubs had been playing a little more than
footsie at the time.

Okay, so I admit it. I wasn't listening, but it's the girl's
own faulty, really. I mean, come on. I'm a man, and I'm a demon.
What the bloody hell did she expect?

"What happened between Xander and me was just a fluke," she told
me. "He was helping me pick out something to wear for the Homecoming
Dance and before I knew it, we were kissing."

"Fluke...got it..." I agreed aloud, although I prefer to think of
it as nauseatingly bad taste on her part. Actually, I didn't have
the slightest idea what she was talking about...but I did have the first
knot loosened a bit.

"...it was supposed to be a delusting spell, you know? Just
to..."

"Delusting...makes sense," I said, my eyes completely focused on
her face, but my mind completely focused on the second knot my fingers
encountered. The girl obviously had no bondage training...my dead
grandmum could have undone them...with both hands tied behind her back.

"...and then you showed up..."

"Uh-huh," I grunted, having just scraped the bloody hell out of knuckles
as I pulled one hand out from underneath the first few layers of ropes.

...and then I was kissing him...really kissing him, you know?" she
asked me.

"Oh yeah...I know." I added, shaking my head, hoping it would
cover up any other visible movements as I continued to work through the
various knots and layers.

"...Cordelia could have been killed!"

Fourth knot loose. How many bloody knots did she use anyway?

"...Oz said he needed time..."

"Time, right..." He needs time? I needed more time to
get the last knot undone. Then it I'd just have to wriggle my way
out. 'Course, then there was the little matter of grabbing the water
gun, keys and opening the lock on my ankle chains, but one crappy plan
at a time, right?

"...this female werewolf. And she was in a band too!
Now, I ask you, how was I supposed to compete with that?"

"Er...tough break, kid." Not very sympathetic, I know.
But I don't think she was listening to me anymore than I was listening
to her. She wanted it off her chest. I'd just provided the
catalyst.

"...it hurts, but I'll be okay. I'm more than my relationship
with Oz, just like you're more than your relationship with Drusilla," she
said with soft shrug and not even a hint of embarrassment in her voice
at pouring her heart out to the undead.

Strange girl.

"Love's a bitch." No, not particularly poetic, but it seemed
to sum things up pretty well.

Hell, it pretty much sums up all relationships, doesn't it?

Willow stopped her pacing and gave me a friendly smile. "I'm
kinda hungry. Think I'll make myself some popcorn. You want
me to heat up some blood while I'm working my microwave magick?" she grinned
even wider.

Perfect. By the time she was done playing the good little wifey
in the kitchen, I'd be gone.

"Sure, luv. I am a bit peckish, now that you mention it."

And that's when my little plan went to hell in a hand basket.
My back was to the kitchen, so when she went to make the snacks, she must
have noticed that I'd nearly succeeded in freeing my hands.

Next thing I knew, I felt the cold metal of the handcuffs being snapped
back into place behind my back.

"You know, Spike, I would have partially untied you if you'd just
asked. You didn't have to sit there and pretend to be interested
in what I was saying," she said from behind me, her voice a little more
cool than I remember hearing from her before.

"I wasn't pretending. I am interested. Share my pain
and all that, right? I lost Dru, you lost, um, er..."

"Oz," she sighed as she finished undoing the rope. "I've been
talking about Oz for the past hour and you weren't even listening.
You must think I'm the biggest idiot in Sunnydale."

Even though she set herself up for at least a dozen biting comebacks,
I wasn't ready to give up hope on my plan just yet.

"You, an idiot? Not bloody likely, Red. It's plainly
obvious that you're the brains in the bunch."

Willow moved in front of me to where I could see her. She had
the rope in her hands and an unusually blank expression on her face.
I couldn't tell if she was angry or hurt.

"Save it, Spike. I might be slow, but I'm finally on to your
little game."

Sod the plan. I wanted to be free and I wasn't above begging.

"Come on, witch. Please? Keeping a vamp all cooped up
like this is cruel. I'm going stir crazy in here. What if I
promise I'll come back in an hour?"

Willow shook her head as she picked the water gun back up and pointed
it directly at my face. "Time to get back in the tub. I've
got a lot of work to do and I've wasted enough time on you."

And then the little witch actually shoved me--bloody hard, too--forcing
me back down the hall and into the loo.